


Impulsivity

by Silmarils (semit)



Series: Melkor's Choice [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semit/pseuds/Silmarils
Summary: “Lieutenant,” spoke Melkor, “Come to me,” a long-nailed hand gestured for Mairon to approach. The Maia bowed, ascending the stairs to kneel before his Lord, “I have thought in great detail on the current matter at hand, little one,” Melkor spoke quietly, “Truly we have much to do.”Each work in this series can be read as a standalone fic.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Melkor's Choice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648705
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Impulsivity

Mairon was troubled. His lord was in unusually high spirits upon his return, but clipped, cryptic, and reluctant to share the details of his absence. Melkor did reveal that he was summoned by Eru into the presence of Feanor. An Oath of Trade was sworn, which effectively exchanged the Silmarils for the Flame Imperishable. To any questions, Mairon was silenced or treated to laughter.

On the war front, most troubling to the Maia was the sudden retreat of the elves on the eve on what was to be a great battle. This was unusual. Highly troubling. The elves might was not unsubstantial, and their withdrawal unexpected. Suspicious. Perhaps it is the elves not Eru that possess the Silmarils and they are now sated? Hmm. Likely. This was an Oath of Trade. He'll never admit it of course, my beautiful, prideful Lord.

Following the retreat of the Eldar, Melkor ordered the recall of his armies from the multiple fronts of combat for what he termed as, “A glorious victory and well-deserved respite for all!”

Why? Thought Mairon, We have planned long and made countless preparations for our great assault. We should pursue the wretched Eldar and claim the lands they flee in their wake as our own! Still, the troops and officers appeared grateful upon hearing of the Lord’s orders. Prior victories came at high losses and the armies grew weary.

A great relief and sense of glory was the general sentiment upon witnessing the elves’ withdrawal. Most viewed this mysterious move not with suspicion or cause to analyze motives, but simply as cowardice of the soft Eldar and a victory for Angband.

Still, in Melkor’s mind, it was necessary to minimize any stray beliefs that the mutual withdrawal was, in fact, a retreat by Angband in some way. For this reason, Melkor ordered a great feast to be prepared with celebrations for soldiers and servants alike. All rejoiced when Melkor tasked Gothmog to spearhead the festivities. The balrog’s leadership in this undertaking meant that ale would flow freely and great fires would be lit to roast delicious meats.

At the feast, the Dark Lord of Angband himself was absent, now sequestered in his personal rooms. “For solitary contemplation,” Melkor had said, but the Vala was not solitary. Mairon seethed as he watched Melkor’s favored elf slave follow his Master into his rooms. Disgusting. Truly, the elf slave was nearly always at the Master's feet, gazing up at his Lord with honeyed glances and the batting of long elf eyelashes. The slave was born in Angband and lived the softest life that the Dark Kingdom could offer, far from the forge pits where most of its captured brethren labored. More a servant now than a thrall, Melkor had doted on it like a pet for hundreds of years even giving it gifts and fine garb, and the elf attended to its Master’s every personal whim and physical desire. It knew nothing else. He abused it yes, but far more gently than he treated the Maia. A pleasure slave of the purest sort. Scum! Strangely though, the elf had a dark edge to its being, a ferocious devotion and fierce submissive loyalty.

The thought of the unworthy Eldar now privy to the Lord’s most private thoughts and attentions infuriated the Dark Lieutenant of Angband. Mairon’s jealousy of the elf was known widely and he did not attempt to hide nor deny his deep dislike for the waiflike creature, often kicking it in the ribs when he had the occasion. Once Marion had stabbed it and was horrifyingly punished for doing so. He loathed it, but it did seem to make Melkor happy.

Patience. I must have patience. Melkor speaks to me always on all great endeavors, and will reveal to me his darkest plans for the Flame Imperishable, and we shall rejoice in boundless private pleasures! Patience.

Still, a semblance of patience was challenging during the seven days of his Lord’s isolation. For much of this duration, Mairon could be found pacing outside the Lord’s locked apartments. Violet light cracked from beneath the heavy wooden doors as Melkor tested his new powers with hellish eruptions of power. Frequent gales of the Lord’s laughter could be heard, and the sounds of love making were a nightly pattern, his master’s pleasured grunts of climax mingling with the elf’s breathless pants, shameless screams of ecstasy, and shouts of adoration. Melkor liked his lovers loud as they submitted to his dominance.

Also heard were Melkor’s sighs of obvious pleasure, but these were not coupled with the sounds of lovemaking. His Lord’s pleasure lasted for hours, and at times Melkor was screaming for extended peaks of ecstasy echoing for all of Angband to hear. The Lord knew that all heard his pleasure and did not care. The continued auditory stimulation overwhelmed Mairon’s own passions at times and demanded release. He did on multiple occasions retreat to his quarters to satiate his lust alone. And others throughout Angband did the same.

Oh, Melkor how I do miss you! When food was brought, Mairon caught glimpses of the apartment in disarray beyond the usual chaos. Was that a portal I now see? A portal to where? 

When Melkor finally emerged from his reclusion, the Dark Vala glowed with elation. His entrance to the throne room was grand, throwing the doors open with a thunderous bang as purple light arced throughout the great hall to herald his presence. He was truly stunning to behold. Mairon was as spellbound as he was at first encountering the Vala. Radiant! Oh, he was so very beautiful. Of course, to Mairon, Melkor was always beautiful. Though Melkor did return from the mysterious disappearance without the scars and limp, now he was more splendid if such a thing were possible.

Firstly, the Dark Vala wore his hair loose and long to his waist, a thing which he rarely did except when it would free from its bindings in the throes of passion. He seemed to have conjured new garb as well. Black, of course with the garment coming to sharp points at each shoulder. At the ends of each collar two spikes jutted out savagely at either side of his head. At his waist, a portion of leather seductively split open when he moved to reveal a thin sliver of his palest abdomen. Publicly baring any flesh beside his neck and hands Melkor had never done. Doing so would invite enemies or traitors to stab or attack any revealed spot with venomous abandon, to slip a knife into that very crescent of exposed flesh low on his torso. It was simply a pragmatic decision to not expose any more of his body than was required. This seemed to no longer matter to the Dark Lord.

There was an air of shameless sensuality about him, even in the way he walked. He wore low hung leather pants with many silver chains about his waist and tall boots. No maille at all for protection could be seen. A crown of platinum he had created for himself, tall and brutally angular. His blue eyes had a physical light as well. Still, there was something more. 

It was power, and the Vala was overflowing with it, a throbbing ebb filling the air with electric waves. Melkor parted the throngs of onlookers as he majestically traveled through the hall and up the dais to grace the throne. The elf slave that trailed him now sat at the Lord’s feet unable to move from fear and love, head pressed to the floor with its fingertips brushing the edges of the Master’s dark boots.

Melkor sat silent on the throne for long moments, luxuriating in glory and he exhaled a barely audible moan of bliss. Breaking the palpable silence of anticipation, he spoke to the breathless throngs of balrogs, servants, men, orcs, slaves, dark corrupted elves, and other foul creatures, “Citizens of Angband, hear this all. The cowardly elves have fled before our might. They have abandoned their futile warring and left on the eve of our great battle. We in our triumph and armed thusly will rejoice, then pursue greater ventures to secure prosperity for our kingdom. Glory to Angband!”

The crowd cheered in reply, many lifting their fists, “Glory to Angband!”

Melkor continued, “You will see that your Lord no longer wears the jewels upon mine crown. The power of the gems I have absorbed into mine being as you can plainly see," he lied, "The jewels are now simply empty shells no longer worthy of Angband,” he thought his falsehoods were very clever, and that it was prudent to plainly acknowledge the absence of the Silmarils. Indeed, some of his more intelligent subjects would ponder on their absence given the Lord’s previous obsession with the gems. He also sought to explain his new power, secure further loyalty, quell any rumors, inspire awe, and reverence. His deceitful tactics were having the intended effect.

“With the power of Angband so great, the elves turned away in craven defeat. Glory to Angband!” the crowd again replied in kind before the Dark Vala resumed his address, “Now I join you for a second celebration of the Great Retreat of the Eldar,” he coined a term to give a name to the elves’ withdrawal. He clapped his hands, “Bring drink! All will taste the glory of Angband’s finest ales once again and mix these with drinks of plunder!” and the crowd cheered as drinks were served with great expediency.

Excellent! Melkor leaned back on the dark throne, touched the tips of his fingers together, and smiled. Those in attendance were now talking amongst themselves in merriment as the alcohol began to flow. A goblet of red wine was brought to Melkor, and he ordered the same to be served to his elf pet. The elf now sat massaging the Lord’s knee and gazing up to him with obvious lust. Melkor beckoned it to kiss him which it did eagerly before Melkor pushed it to be seated on the floor for the Lord’s eyes landed on Mairon.

“Lieutenant,” spoke Melkor, “Come to me,” a long-nailed hand gestured for Mairon to approach. The Maia bowed, ascending the stairs to kneel before his Lord, “I have thought in great detail on the current matter at hand, little one,” Melkor spoke quietly, “Truly we have much to do.”

Melkor continued, “There is much to consider now, my dear. Though I greatly wish to pursue the enemy and crush them from mine earth, alas, I cannot. For Eru surely is temping me away from his precious Eldar with the finest prospects. And temping they are to tease my closest desires. But the elves I cannot attack. At least not yet. For first, I must tread carefully.”

Carefully? At this, Mairon’s eyes looked up to his master. The Maia loved Melkor with all his being, and he knew all his idiosyncrasies and inclinations. Careful Melkor was not. His master was rash, passionate, bold, impulsive, and powerful. But careful? No.

Melkor continued, “A few things now before I reveal my great plan privately to you. First, I have been exploring what this gift means, discovering its power and its limitations. I can now change my form. Yes, I am aware that you know that I could do this no longer. But now it matters not! Still, I prefer this body,” and he ran the tips of his fingers along his sides and chest to underscore the sensual meaning of his words. As he did this, he moaned so slightly and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. The elf noticed his Master's pleasure and could not help but stroke his Lord’s knee with more passion. Curious, thought Mairon, Does this power also somehow inflame my Lord's desire?

“And, of course, I can mend myself. But this is but the beginning! With the Flame Imperishable, power cannot be spent. It replenishes always. And I can do so many great things, Mairon! Physical transportation for example, as can Eru. Not just of myself, but of great objects. Great explosions of destruction I can release, more than before,” and Melkor seemed to stifle his words and give pause for a moment. Calm, Melkor. Do not reveal all in excitement.

He could of course previously read thoughts, but such an intrusion was recognized by the recipient. Now, he could do so without the knowledge of the mind he read. But even still there were limitations. The subject must be near, within the distance to the horizon at most. Other limits there were for he could not bring the dead back from the Halls of Mandos, nor could he coerce others into performing actions not of their own choosing for free will was a gift given to all by Eru.

Leverage the power of reading thoughts he maximized most frequently, for during his seclusion, he explored the thoughts of his servants great and small. In the elf slave, his first subject due to the creature’s proximity, he saw only its blind devotion and dark desires. In the flaming Maia, he also felt devotion, but Mairon’s mind was more complex. Something not unpleasant was housed in the Maia's being. Something mutual he also felt in his own fëa. A thing that he felt for Mairon, the silly elf, and Gothmog. Pah! Nonsense.

He knew he loved them all and grasped that it was true fondness, but contradictory he was.

To the elf spoke he once, "Here are the keys to release your cuffs, dear elf, but don't use them lest I whip you! And if I whip thee with too much passion, then only ask me to stop and I will concede to kiss you and soothe you. Still, don't ask, or I will only add more fury to your dicipline!" Even though the elf had the keys to his bindings, the creature chose to stay in service to his Lord and Master. It was a devotion so pure and so cruel for in Angband, all were mad, and the maddest of all was their Master.

To the balrog he spoke once, "Gothmog, my love, I permit you to direct mine armies as you wish, but do not do without consultation or I will flay your skin."

To his Maia spoke he on one occasion, "Mairon, I adore thee! You can do as thou will to conjur the foulest sorcery against mine enemies! But you must not act without mine permission or I will disembody you for all time, dearest."

He loved them all and only required submission. Impossible asks and near madness. Such twisted, and mutual, passions. All shared physical pleasures and deep affections across a complex web of relationships under the firm rule of their Master.

Melkor continued to explain his discoveries of power, “Thought you that I was in my chambers only this past week? Ha! I travelled! Both physically at times, and as fëa alone. But not as you do now, traveling by fëa only to see limited images to close distances. No, now I have a clarity, a deep insight. And oh, the distances I can travel! You would marvel. I have traveled to places in Arda unknown in the West. And it is this now that I see the depth of the gift I have been given. Oh Mairon, there is much more to Arda than what lies in the West! The East, little one. Beyond the mountains of the dwarves which are now and always rightly mine own. All this Eru has bestowed to me. Such wonders there are to the East!”

“The East, my Lord?” at this the Maia’s ears pricked, but such knowledge was unknown to him. “The Easterlings have riches in their desert I know,”

“Pah!” and Melkor laughed, “Fuck the Easterlings and their desert!” Melkor stood, and began to draw a map. In the air. With a silver light. With his fingers. Mairon was in awe. “Here you see.” And he gestured across the great desert beyond the Blue Mountains to another second and greater mountain range. Pointing beyond the peaks to a spot on the virtual map. “Here! To Malgorian! And here there are no elves! And Eru made it abundantly clear that the lands to the East are mine own for the taking. He only wants to protect the cursed elves. He cares for little else. But there is much more to Arda than the foul Eldar and their trifling lands in the West. Do you see, Mairon? Do you?”

“Forgive me, but if you could perhaps elaborate a bit further, Lord. You not have spake the full words of the Oath.”

And at this, Melkor laughed only to reach down to the still kneeling Mairon to tenderly cup his chin. Melkor then bent down to kiss his Maia lover, but only briefly. He also brushed a kiss on the elf’s mouth whilst he had he opportunity. Look at my two beautiful darlings before me. How I desire them both! Lascivious visuals played across his mind’s eye, visions of both the elf and the Maia displaying their arses to him, with the Lord thrusting his shaft into one then the other. A twitch of arousal sparked in his loins. Although desire for physical satiation pawed at his mind and body, a satiation of a different kind also vied for his attentions—the lust for power and domination.

“Elaborate I shall then, dear Mairon. It’s the Oath, my dear,” he spoke not with anger, but truly to convey his meaning. “Privately between us,” he spoke in a hushed tone of a lover, “The Oath of Trade is both very specific in some regards, and vague in others. For example, it calls for the cessation of active hostilities toward the Noldor or Sindar,” he spoke this very quietly since this revelation did contradict the lies he had said before. He trusted his Maia with this knowledge, and did value Mairon’s council when it suited him. Mairon was often the foil of reason to Melkor’s impulsivity. The elf would never say a word of what he heard, so bound, overwhelmed, and dominated he was by Melkor. The Dark Vala continued, “In the Oath, there was no mention of other races. This was an Oath of Trade. A trade with the elves, and the elves alone. This is how I am being careful, you see. For we must adhere to the oath!”

Here, Melkor omitted certain aspects of his meeting with Eru and Feanor. He did not tell Mairon of Eru’s threat to destroy him utterly. He did not speak of the pain he endured after receipt of the Flame Imperishable. In fact, it was the threat of destruction on which Melkor dwelt the most in his musings. Eru’s threat affected him deeply. Melkor knew that Eru would kill him. Yes, Eru would do so reluctantly, but do it he would. Melkor feared this above all else. He could not be reckless and simply attack the elves or he would perish.

Melkor’s eyes closed again as a wave of pleasure floated through his being. "Uh! Ahh!" he actively chose to give quiet voice to his passion throwing his head back ever so slightly and opting to display his rapture to the Maia or the elf. Oh, this is lovely. I must share this with Mairon. Eru you are so clever to fill me with pleasure when I tap my power!

He spoke breathlessly and passionately, “Uh! To Malgorian we will go for greater glory and treasures. We shall make a mighty kingdom fall and have all Arda tremble before mine might! To the East!” he raised his goblet of wine and drank deeply in satisfaction and excitement at new and different prospects. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my fandom friends who were able to help retrieve this previously deleted fic. Extending heartfelt deep gratitude for your assistance locating this work. XO -Mel


End file.
